


Wrap The Night Around Us

by DoreyG



Category: Wallander - All Media Types
Genre: Drunk Sex, M/M, Post The White Lioness, Protected Sex, Scratching, Sort of a book tie-in, Wallander has very bad ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been building up to this for a while, really. Ever since Svedberg saved his life with the South African business, and ever since he saved Svedberg's life in return. It creates a bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrap The Night Around Us

**Author's Note:**

> Set after The White Lioness in book canon, but with a bit of the BBC TV series mixed in.

It's been building up to this for a while, really. Ever since Svedberg saved his life with the South African business, and ever since he saved Svedberg's life in return. It creates a bond.

...A bond.

They slam through into his bedroom, for such an entrance really can't be referred to by a gentler word. Svedberg is all over him, teeth and tongue and lips as wet as sin. He can't get enough, thinks that he could never get enough. Svedberg kisses him and fireworks go off behind his eyes.

He seems to remember a case, a case full of similarities, of alone men and repressed desires stepped down on so harshly that they caused physical pain...

It doesn't seem to matter much now. He kisses Svedberg, Svedberg kisses him harshly in return. They trip, stagger, and turn. Time seems to stretch, or maybe contract. The next he knows they're sprawling out on his bed, so tangled together from tongues to legs that he has absolutely no idea who's on top.

There's alcohol on Svedberg's tongue, musky and sharp. He wonders if the man knows about it, sucks carefully to make sure. The only response is a noise like heaven, a sudden buck of the man's hips and a quick move closer.

...He knows.

And doesn't care, obviously enough, which is well enough because he's having trouble caring himself at the moment. He wonders, briefly, if the alcohol is actually on his tongue instead - if this is yet another example of them being far too close at present moment to actually tell. But he has no time to care beyond that because, _because_ -

Svedberg is more muscular than he was expecting, but it's a pleasant sort of surprise. He watches at the man strips off his shirt in short, economic movements. Even props himself up on his elbows to watch as those pale hands progress to plain black trousers and underwear. He's so captivated that it takes him a long few moments to realize that Svedberg has moved on to _his_ clothes, and when he does he's so embarrassed that the man has his shirt off and is working at the buckle of his jeans before he can move again.

He assists with the rest of the jeans, Svedberg pulling them impatiently off his legs with a largely unintelligible murmur, and his underwear too. They're soon naked, still coiled around each other, and he knows that he should be flushing and stuttering and embarrassed yet again.

...But.

The alcohol is still dark on his tongue, his head feels slightly dazed and Svedberg is staring up at him with lust-dark eyes. It has been leading up to this for a while. He can regret this in the morning. It has been leading up to this for a while.

He's drunk, but he's still not stupid - he knows the importance of using protection for the first time, even if it is while drunk and quite possibly weighed down by the desperation of the world. He briefly shoves Svedberg back, making a noise that might be soothing to counter the brief flash of fear that crosses the man's face, and fumbles for the side drawer. There's a pack of condoms there, which he pulls out impatiently. There's also a small, unused bottle of lube - which he pulls out with a touch more surprise and tosses to Svedberg as another kind of apology.

...Svedberg, at least, looks equally surprised. He says something, but the alcohol is obviously too thick for such words to penetrate and so he's left only with the silent moving of a mouth. A confusing flash that leaves him briefly stranded, half-kneeling on the bed with his cock out and a pack of condoms in his hand.

But luckily, for once, his customary paralysis doesn't leave him frozen. He soon recovers, sways awkwardly forwards and stills Svedberg's moving mouth with a kiss. They continue for a while, and as they do so he slowly moves his hand down the man's muscular arm until he comes to the tube. He squeezes Svedberg's hand softly around it, hopes that the motion conveys everything that he wants to say but just can't find the words for...

And it does.

Again, for once.

Svedberg draws back with a stuttered breath and takes the lube fully in his hand, he studies it for a long moment like it hides some sort of treasure before taking a deeper breath and sprawling up the bed. He takes the pause to pull the condom over himself, make sure that it fully fits and won't suddenly twist and break. Little has changed since the last time he used them, the thing still fits in an entirely acceptable sort of way.

And nothing has changed for Svedberg either, apparently. He prepares himself with economic movements and soft hisses, up to two fingers when he finally looks up from sorting himself. The sight is mildly captivating, yet again. He watches as the man awkwardly adds a third finger and throws back his head with a soft yelping sound. It's been a while since he studied the line made by another human being in such a way. He finds, to his mild surprise, that he's missed it.

Missed it enough to advance upon his partner, and press a surprisingly soft kiss to his forehead as he sways in the midst of his pleasure. It surprises Svedberg too, evidently - the man's eyes spring open for a puzzled moment before clearing. He's somewhat startled at the speed at which the three fingers are withdrawn and the man uses his hair to drag him down into yet another proper kiss.

Not that he minds, though, as he uses an extra bit of lube to slick up himself and then takes up a careful position between Svedberg's slightly bent legs. He fists his hands in the sheets, Svedberg lays encouraging hands on his shoulders in reply and makes a soft noise of encouragement. He presses in slowly...

_Ah_.

...Quickly, a little quicker than he intended.

It's tight at first, unexpectedly tight and Svedberg's face is a picture of pain, but somehow they get past that stage quicker than he remembered and move through the pain just as fast. Soon his hands in the sheets are as loose as Svedberg's hands upon his shoulders, when he looks at the man's face it is only to see the roundness of his mouth and the glossiness of his eyes.

He kisses the man's lips softly, just because it seems the appropriate thing to do. When he draws back Svedberg is smiling, an unintentional little thing that gives away more than words ever could. Their eyes connect briefly, as he braces himself again, he sees something strange and new and just a little terrifying in there-

And then Svedberg makes another noise, this time a little more insistent.

...He can take the hint.

They create a world of their own, all heat and speed and the intimacy of flesh brushing against flesh. He makes noises, Svedberg scars his skin to encourage him to more. It is a perfection entirely of their making, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The heat is incredible, the kind that can only be generated by two bodies or a raging fever. He can see the sweat beading on Svedberg's skull and kisses it away, just to taste a different kind of tang upon his tongue. The man only looks delighted, arches up into him. Their skins glow wherever they touch.

The speed varies, deathly slow or so fast that the air catches in his lungs. They move like they have eternity to do this in, this strange dance of bonds and saved lives. They move like they have only a few seconds before the end of the world, grip each other like they can reach salvation and a world beyond the nightmares. They tell each other lies with their variations, it's the only way to survive.

The intimacy is steady, inescapable. Wherever he is there's Svedberg, wherever Svedberg is there's him. They are a circle, a chain, a being that'll never end and never begin. His cock moves inside Svedberg, Svedberg's hands shift upon his back, their bellies and mouths and cheeks brush and he can almost trick himself into believing that there was never a time outside this. That it has been only them. Only _them_.

...Only them.

He makes a noise like he's dying, loud and so harsh that his throat aches slightly after it.

Svedberg scratches him so hard that he thinks that he's bleeding, long lines of pain down his back that he instantly accepts.

He's not sure who comes when, but he's sure that it happens for both of them. It takes a while for him to stir back to life after the fact. There's a sticky line of white on Svedberg's belly underneath him, when he finally manages to shift himself and flop breathlessly to the side more white seeps slowly down the man's thighs.

They lie together in the bed, too tired and dazed to move or talk or even glance at each other. The morning awaits, sharp and cold and ready to return both of them to their lying lives.

It's been building up to this for a while, really.

...Knowing both of them, it has a far too good chance of building and building again.


End file.
